La Tomatina
by MyLatte
Summary: Romano looked around, everyone was throwing tomatoes at everyone else. Light SpainxRomano. Fluff. Rated T for mild swearing.


I was watching a travel show last night, and it was a festival special, and **La Tomatina **was featured on it! So I thought it would be perfect for Spain and Romano XD So this story was born. I'm sorry if it's not too good, I was writing it last night, and I was tired last night, so yeah.

And I'm sorry if it's OOC, it's my first time writing Spain and Romano, and Romano is a difficult character to portray. I tried though! It's mild SpainxRomano with light yaoi/shonen-ai.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

For everyone's information, in case you didn't know. La Tomatina is a festival held in Buñol in Spain. Before the fight, participants can try and climb up a greased pole to get the ham on top, and when someone manages to get the ham, trucks of tomatoes come, and for an hour, everyone throws tomatoes at one another.

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**La Tomatina**

"I'm sorry, but why are we here again?" Romano asked, taking a seat on the hotel bed. They were in Buñol for some reason that Spain wouldn't explain. He had just told Romano that it was 'something he'd enjoy' because it involved tomatoes.

"I'm not telling you anymore than you already know." Spain replied, pulling on a pair of board shorts. He had a pair of white gloves on for some reason, and Romano snickered at this.

"You know, you look incredibly stupid wearing those gloves and no shirt." He remarked.

"That's funny, I don't feel stupid." He turned to grin at the Italian. "Put these on." He held out a pair of goggles.

"Fuck. No." Romano pulled a face at the offending object. "Why should I wear those?"

"You're going to regret it if you don't, _mi amor._" He winked at the younger nation, causing Romano to blush furiously.

"D-don't call me th-that!" He snatched the goggles out of his hand, but didn't put them on. "When does this thing start anyway?"

"Oh, it should be starting soon, so let's head down to the streets now!" He cheered. Romano noticed that Spain seemed to be happier than usual. He hadn't thought that possible until now.

"Fine, but this better be worth it, I had to get up early." He grumbled.

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Romano stared up in disbelief at the greasy pole in front of him. "What the fuck are we supposed to do with this?"

"Isn't it obvious, Lovi?" Spain asked, and continued when he received a blank look from the Italian. "That." He pointed to someone who was trying (and failing) to climb up the pole. She was shimmying up it awkwardly, and slipping down every few seconds.

"But…why?" He said, not comprehending what was going on. He hadn't experienced anything like this before.

"It's called a soap stick, and you're supposed to try and climb up it and get the ham up the top." Spain pointed to the top. "It's for fun, that's all." Someone tapped the Spaniard on the back and muttered something to him in rapid _Español_ that Romano couldn't completely understand. "_Está bien!" _Spain nodded, and jumped onto the pole in front of them.

Everyone seemed to be cheering him on besides one Italian, who instead was yelling at him. "Antonio, you bastard! Come down, you're going to hurt yourself!" But Spain seemed to climb the pole with more ease than any of the other people there, and soon he had made it to the top.

"Did you see me, Lovi?" He exclaimed once he had gotten down. "Why don't you have a go?"

"Eh? No, thanks…" He scowled. "Why would I want to fall down a post?"

"Don't worry about that now; it's time for the tomatoes!" He waved off Romano's disdain and pointed to a truck in the distance that was coming down the road.

Romano watched first in antipathy, and as the truck came closer, he was intrigued and confused. The truck was full of tomatoes, and there were people standing in them and throwing them into the crowds. Soon, he was covered in tomato pulp, and everyone around him was throwing them at one another. This was strange. He turned to Spain, but got a face full of the pulp instead. Now he saw why Spain had given him the goggles earlier. He wiped it out of his eyes, and glared at the Spaniard.

"What the _hell_ was that for, jackass?"

"It's what the whole thing is about!" He laughed, scooping up another handful of tomato and throwing it at someone near him. "Join in!"

"I'll be fine, thanks." He denied, crossing his arms over his chest. Spain shrugged his shoulders, and turned away from him, continuing in the fight.

Romano had to admit though, it did look kind of fun. And it was tomatoes, tomatoes, for goodness sake! The best food in the world! He sort of maybe wanted to join in, but he didn't want to give Spain the thought that he was actually enjoying it. So he decided against it, and leant against the wall, watching instead. But the lure of the tomato was so strong on him, and he couldn't help bending down, picking up a handful of the stuff and chucking it at someone nearby. Soon, he was totally involved, and though he hated to admit it, having fun.

Spain was standing in front of him; the back of his head was covered in red pulp and it looked suspiciously like a target. Grinning like a madman, Romano ladled a big pile of tomato into his hands, and threw it with all his might at the Spanish man. Who turned around, laughing.

"Lovi! You joined in!" He cheered, visibly elated. "This is fun, isn't it?"

"I just wanted to throw some at you." He stuck out his tongue like a child.

"You look even more like a tomato now, _mi amor!_" He gasped. "Because you're covered in it!"

"Sh-shut up! So do you!" He was going to say more, but a stream of cold water stopped him. "What the hell was that?!"

Spain, who was also getting drenched, just giggled. "It's over!"

"Huh…?" He cocked his head to the side. "It's only been an hour, though?"

"That's all it goes for." He shrugged. "Now, let's go clean ourselves up, _sí_?"

"I suppose so," He sulked. He was having fun, and now it was over.

"Aw, Lovi," Romano felt arms around his waist, and he looked up to see it was Spain. "Don't be all broody, you had a good time while it lasted, right?"

"Get off me!" He broke out of the embrace and stared at the other nation, his eyes opening wide. There was tomato all over Spain's face, and it smelled really nice. It was especially rich on his lips, and Romano suddenly wanted to taste it. He would have wanted to taste it, no matter who's lips they were (he told himself), so suddenly, without warning, he rose up on his toes and quickly pressed his lips against Spain's. It was very briefly, and he pulled them away just as fast. He was right, the tomato did taste nice.

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**Thanks for reading!**


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